


the light over the confessional

by problematic_pleasures



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Canon Character Death (mentioned), Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, M/M, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-12-11 10:00:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11712072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/problematic_pleasures/pseuds/problematic_pleasures
Summary: “Have you always wanted to be a badass little serial killer?”“What?” Carl throws the word over his shoulder; he’s half insulted by the question and half confused.





	the light over the confessional

**Author's Note:**

> the dialogue in this wouldn't leave me be, so here we go. just a random little tidbit for these two. this is filthy and meant to showcase both negan's softer side and the fact he's very, very fucked up.
> 
> hope you enjoy!

“Have you always wanted to be a badass little serial killer?”

“What?” Carl throws the word over his shoulder; he’s half insulted by the question and half confused.

Negan shrugs with a shit-eating grin. “Have you _always_ wanted to be a badass little serial killer? Were you one of those fucks killin’ ants with magnifying glasses?”

Carl rolls his eye. “Hardly. I was a kid when this started.”

“No such thing as starting too early.”

Carl, now wrestled into his jeans, pauses in pulling on his shirt. “No, okay? I wasn’t. It never once crossed my mind, until the whole world went to shit and I didn’t have another choice.” He curls his fists in the fabric of his shirt.

Faces flash before his eye: rotted corpses that somehow all seem unique, interspersed with glimpses of Shane and Lori’s faces. When the faces flicker before him, there’s no gun barrel to separate them. Just Carl, staring down the people he’s killed.

He’s startled out of his thoughts by dry lips on his skin. One of Negan’s hands rubs soothingly along his side, while he drags his lips in silently apologetic kisses. His beard scrapes across Carl’s skin and wrings a shiver from the younger boy. Carl lets his shirt fall to the floor and sinks into Negan’s touch.

 

 

“For what it’s worth,” Negan murmurs once he’s got Carl under him again, spread out and on the brink of orgasm, “I think you turned out just fuckin’ perfect.”

Carl digs his knees into Negan’s ribs. “Shut up and fuck me already.”

“No, no, no,” Negan coos. He pushes forward until he’s nearly bending Carl in half—hardly a stretch, these days—and can breathe the words directly into Carl’s spit-slick lips. “I want you to hear this, you got me?” He thrusts when Carl doesn’t answer, chooses to take the sudden moan as agreement. Hands bruising on Carl’s hips, rhythm slow and painfully steady, Negan keeps talking.

“I think you couldn’t have been put together better than if I had done it myself. You’re a sweet little thing with the most _delicious_ nasty streak.” Negan groans and presses himself as far into Carl as he can. Clearly savoring the sensation, Negan falls silent; he speaks only when he finally thrusts again.

“Hell, it’s like you _were_ made by me, _for_ me.” Negan threads kisses through his words and works his way from Carl’s lips to his ear. He nibbles on the lobe for a long, teasing moment.

Just when Carl opens his mouth to speak (beg, whine, keen, _anything_ ), Negan carries on. This time his words are raspy and hot and spoken right in Carl’s ear. He couldn’t block them out even if he wanted to.

“I love that you are a ruthless motherfucker. It gets me _hot_. You get me hot, Carl.” Negan drags one hand from Carl’s hip to cup an ass cheek and squeeze. He pulls Carl closer to meet every thrust and finally starts to speed up his pace. “You tick all my boxes, kid. Hit all those fuckin’ buttons, just right.”

Negan’s other hand drifts from Carl’s hip, too, and finds one of Carl’s hands instead. After a few fumbling tries, Negan links their fingers and presses their hands against the bed.

“You got it all.” Negan finally finds his way back to Carl’s lips and Carl can’t look away from the intense, heavy gaze. “Looks, attitude, and plenty of red in your ledger. Couldn’t ask for more. Wouldn’t _dream_ of askin’ for more.”

Carl’s skin is burning, not just from his impending orgasm but from Negan’s words. They’re a mix of reverent and possessive, loving and sharp. All the words sink into Carl’s body like a brand and when Negan trails off, he finds himself nodding.

“Yeah?” Negan asks back. “You like that? Like that I _love_ your fucked-up mind? Huh?”

Carl grits his teeth but keeps nodding. He squeezes Negan’s hand hard enough to hurt and closes his eyes just as tight. He wants to speak—wants to snarl back at Negan’s sweet words and fight against the near delicate tone—but can’t find the air to make it happen. He gasps and moans and comes, untouched, between them, fighting it every second.

“That’s it, that’s good,” Negan sighs softly as he watches Carl’s come stain their stomachs. His thrusts slow but he stays hard and deep inside Carl. “You got another round in you?”

Carl, chest heaving, raises an eyebrow. “Are you kidding me?”

Negan half-shrugs. “Seems like I gotta fuck some common sense into you, wanna make sure you enjoy it.”

Another shiver runs through Carl. There’s a promise in the toothy curve of Negan’s smile.

“Gotta make sure you know how much I love your psycho ass, don’t I?” Negan is already looming again and his hips roll in small, subtle circles.

Carl squeezes Negan’s hand again. “Do it.”

“With pleasure.”

**Author's Note:**

> title comes from the herbert mullin quote, _"i saw the light over the confessional and the voice said: that’s the person to kill._ "


End file.
